


Like a Flashbang

by Hoodedscarlet



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Flirting, Medical Procedures, does it count if it's on robotic limbs though?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7173770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodedscarlet/pseuds/Hoodedscarlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompted from the Overwatch Kink Meme: [McCree/Mercy] - Anything for these two really. This refined, classy lady and dirty scumbag ex-criminal. They worked together for a while, and maybe she built him his prosthetic arm? I don't know, I just really want to see this ship.</p><p>McCree isn't one to stay quiet when repairs are being done on his arm, and Mercy relaxes a whole lot less than she usually cares to admit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Flashbang

One of the first things McCree noticed about Angela was that she was somewhat of a perfectionist.

Well, _somewhat_ was a little bit of an understatement. Angela poured over everything she did with the same unmatched level of concentration, like she was solving a puzzle that was always so close to being figured out. It was a habit like any other he knew; any sort of medical procedure required the utmost attention since there was no second chances if you screwed up - and when she had fixed so many people in so many places and battlezones he could understand why she liked to concentrate so intently. She had a certain face she pulled when she was concentrating too, eyebrows knitting together in a way that shadowed her blue eyes just so. He could see it now as the woman perched on the end of her stool like some sort of exotic bird, tinkering with the wires in his arm. The look on her face, that concentration, was mesmerizing, especially since she had this god forsaken habit of biting her lip that just begged to be interpreted in a multitude of different ways. Perhaps in a bedroom, with her stretched out for him, or perhaps on her knees...

He may be working to repent for his sins these days, but a man can only resist so much temptation.

"This may hurt a little." Angela said, the words startling McCree out of his thoughts just a moment before pain laced up his arm, making his breath hiss out from between clenched teeth. 

"You gotta give me a lil' more warning before you pull stunts like that, darling." He said, forcing his breathing to return to normal. At that Angela looked a little sheepish, brushing her fringe out of her face as she looked to him.

"Sorry. The artificial nervous system in your wrist is looking... rather worse for wear." She said. "I'll be switching it off in a second, but unfortunately I had to bypass a few rogue wires first."

"I guess that goes to show I shouldn't be blocking bullets with my hands again, right?"

"That's one way to put it." Angela said, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips as her gaze returned to the robotic guts of McCree's left arm. That was another thing that McCree first noticed about the woman; she was so proper. Perhaps it was something to do with the medical industry, or being one of Overwatch's big faces back in the day or being part German, or something. He couldn't put his finger on the reason why, but he could list off a plethora of occasions when he could see Angela restrain herself from laughing too loud, or hanging back in a conversation like when D.Va started up another game of Fuck, Marry, Kill. Was being improper that uncouth to a woman like Angela? It at the very least seemed that way.

"How bad is it, doc?" She raised an eyebrow at him, but talked anyway.

"You're lucky you didn't completely lose use of your hand." She said frankly. "The bullet was hollow-cavity, and I doubt I need to inform you on how much of a headache those are medically."

"They're a nasty piece of work." McCree replied solemnly. He'd seen the damage those things did - back in his blacker days he'd even fired a few. They were a surefire way to take down an opponent, since once the metal hit flesh it flattened and shattered in the skin to cause massive damage instead of passing straight through. There was a good reason they were banned internationally in warfare. Unfortunately, terrorist groups didn't tend to abide by international law. "Can't say my arm's been functioning all that well since I took the shot."

"And if it had been the other one I can't say you'd still have it." She replied, with a touch of concern in her voice. For a moment it was written across her, in the way her shoulders slumped and her eyes softened. But the moment was blink and you miss it, and it was gone before McCree could really comment on it.

"Good thing I've got myself a lovely woman to fix me all up when I get myself into trouble, huh?"

"That's doctor to you."

"Sorry, I've got a lovely doctor then." He said, stressing the word with an easy, half cocked smile on his face.

"Better." She said - the reply was brief but her tone was light. If she was only entertaining his small talk because she had to operate on him for an hour or so then she wasn't showing it. Silence returned after that, only the sound of soldering and Angela's occasional hums breaking it. Her fingers moved delicately within the casing of his arm, deftly connecting and separating wires clumped so thickly together McCree wouldn't have a clue which did what - and he owned the damn thing. With the artificial nervous system down so Angela could repair it, it was up to him to imagine the way the slim digits would feel dancing across the smooth metal. And god, it was too easy - the way they brushed so lightly, each movement with its own calculated purpose. Of course they did - she was such a well renowned doctor for a reason. She had a pianist fingers, slim and dexterous-

And he cut himself off there, because this was the second time in ten minutes his thoughts had gone south and believe it or not, he actually had some respect for the girl. He really did need to get laid at some point though - this dry spout was getting to him.

"So, what you doing after all this?" He said, gesturing vaguely to his arm.

"Nothing interesting." Angela said in reply. "I have a few medical records that need updating, knowing Tracer I'll have to chase her up about her pulled calf. Pharah said she'd be in so I can look over how her stitches are healing up. Reinhardt said he'd be by too since his back is playing up again, but considering Torbjorn is back and I heard rumours of whiskey involved I doubt I'll be seeing him." She went through each methodically, like she was ticking off a mental check list. Considering how immaculately orderly the woman was, McCree wouldn't put it past her.

"What? No time for yourself?"

"That comes after everything's done." She replied.

"It's already 8pm."

"And?" She said, looking to him and raising an eyebrow.

"Sounds to me like somebody's just going to work until she drops."

"I do not _drop_." Angela insisted, pouting almost like a small child. "I am a medical professional and I am perfectly aware of my needs and limits."

"So then you are gonna lay back and take a load off? Maybe have a beer?"

"I'm partial to a good merlot, honestly- But that's not the point!" She interrupted herself, and if McCree's eyes weren't fooling him there was now a delightful dusting of pink across her cheeks. "I have work to do, and I cannot simply slack off!"

"When was the last time you did, then?"

"I..." And that was when McCree caught her, he could see the very moment the words died on her lips. He chuckled deep in his chest as Angela struggled to hide her embarrassment.

"Once you're done with this, we're sitting down and having a drink, okay? Let your pretty self unwind."

"And since when were you invited?" Angela didn't sound opposed, only surprised.

"Darlin', you think after all this I'm gonna trust you to let your hair down on your own?"

"I'm not a child, McCree."

"That's Jesse to you." He said, shooting Angela a winning smile. _Fuck it._ "And I never said you were a kid, Doc. I'm rather aware that isn't the case, if anything." He met Angela's eyes as he said it, the words rolling slyly off his tongue and the woman couldn't look away fast enough.

"Look, do you want me to finish your arm or not?" 

"Never said you had to leave me waitin', doll." McCree replied. Angela quickly returned to work after that, although McCree noted with some amusement she was focusing significantly more on the job in front of her than she was before - or at least, her eyes were. Her gaze alone looked like it was going to burn a hole through the metal of his arm. Which would be frankly be a shame, considering just how long Angela had spent building and repairing the damned thing. 

It didn’t take her much longer to actually finish the repairs, the panels in McCree’s arm clicking snugly back into place. He flexed his fingers and arm, smiling as he felt the parts move happily together.  
“Thank you, darlin’.” He said, standing up and stretching. “Feels a mighty sight better than it did before, that’s for sure.”

“Then I’ve done my job.” Angela said, dusting off her hands with a pleased look on her face. She only paused when McCree didn’t make a move to leave to room. 

“You coming?”

“I was going to clean up." Angela said, although the words sounded questioning, unsure.

"What are you cleaning up? That?" McCree replied, gesturing to the few tools she hadn't tidied away as she had gone and the meager heap of scraps. "Surely that can wait until tomorrow and you can come kick up your heels in the lounge." Angela looked like she was about to argue further, but finally seemed to fold.

"Fine." She said, hanging her lab coat on its designated hook next to the door. "But I'll only be having one drink."

-x-

It wasn't one drink.

Of course, she had insisted as such all the way down the hall and into the crowded lounge. There were various yells and hollers as McCree walked in and tipped his hat, more when they realised who he had dragged along with him. It was almost surprising how out of her depth Angela looked - whether that was because she hadn't expected to be here tonight or she didn't socialise he couldn't tell. But then Tracer had dragged her over to the couch in two (literal) blinks, shoving a controller in one hand and a sickly sweet drink in the other and McCree couldn't have dragged her away even if he wanted to. He'd tried once when the same was done to him - apparently it was 'rude' to leave after just one race and _come on McCree you can't go now, Rainbow Road's next!_

Feeling satisfied at a job well done, he went to sit with 76 and Reinhardt who seemed completely absorbed in some tale Torbjorn was telling. Perhaps he would have been swept up too, but he just couldn't bring himself too - not when he could be stealing looks at Angela, whose cheeks were flushing with the alcohol and whose laughter and words were getting more and more loose as the night wore on. He even heard a few choice words in German he knew Angela would never let rip on a normal day - to be far though the others were only encouraging it with Tracer and D.Va all but wrestling on the couch beside and at times even over Angela. Oh, he tried to make it not so obvious, glance around the room at the other people present. Pharah and Zarya were at a table arm wrestling, with Mei cheering them on, Junkrat and Roadhog were perching outside on the bannister not blowing anything else up (which was a significant event in itself). He even noticed Genji and Zenyatta outside through the window, the two of them silent in contemplation.

He registered that all, took notes of it in his mind but the only thing he could _notice_ was her. He couldn't even remember the last time he had seen her out here for any other reason than chasing up a patient, and there was something that meant he just couldn't stop staring. God though, she was so _handsy_ too once she had let her guard down - when at first she had been just keeping her hands to herself, now she was elbowing Tracer and D.Va in the sides and proclaiming "You started it!" with a laugh. When Reinhardt went to comment on his staring though, McCree just leveled him with a stare - he knew he was being obvious, he didn't need anybody else to point it out. He did however move to another table - if he was going to be blatant about it he might as well just run with it. If anything, he swore he saw her stealing a few looks back, but that was probably him just being awfully optimistic.

By the time everybody on the couch bailed out because Lucio had somehow beaten them on Mario Kart for the 5th time consecutively, the room had emptied out considerably. The night had worn on, as had the fat cigar between McCree's lips that he had lit sometime ago. He let out a soft plume from between his lips, watching the smoke curl through the air. 

"You're still here."

He looked over from his smoke tricks and there she was - standing with eyes brightened with liquid courage and a smile brighter than a flashbang and just as stunning. That was one of the first things he had noticed about her too, how wonderful her smile was, and frankly it had been the only 'proper' thought he'd had about the woman all that day. Right now though as it was, it took McCree a moment to recover and frankly to remember to think with the right head, offering the woman a smile as he tilted his hat back to meet her eyes.

"As are you. Thought you only said one drink, darlin'." 

"That was before the games though!" Angela said, giggling openly as she leaned against the table. "And the drinks were so good too!" Even with the support, she still somehow seemed to sway on her feet and with a start McCree realised just how much she had drunk - or at least, how much of a lightweight she was. Knowing her, that would probably be why later she’d venomously deny any further drinking opportunities. Stabbing the end of his cigar into the table, he stood up.

"Come on girl, let's get you back to your room." He offered her a hand, which would have been perfectly fine except for the fact that Angela took that as an invitation to lean on his body and that touch burnt like fire. She mumbled something under her breath in German that McCree didn't quite catch as they started walking, but he did catch the too long glace she took at him as she leaned on him even more. Perhaps she was aware of the fact he was so close to pressing her against the closest wall and kissing that pretty smile off her face, dissolve those giggles into moans and bite at her neck until the skin mottled so pretty for him. 

_Fuck_ , he wanted that the most, not just because he wanted to see those physical marks on her but because he just knew those would be the ones that Angela would agonise over. She was a medical professional after all, it would practically be in her nature to agonise over them. She'd know that it was just ruptured blood vessels but she'd press at the marks all the same just to feel that slim pulse of pain, that ache that would remind Angela of a body pressed so close to her own that made her feel small in the best of ways, pain that reminded her of beard burn and the smell of too expensive cigars. She'd remember it all and she'd ache, ache just as he did now, and it would be fitting for all the grief that she had put him through trying to be a _goddamn_ gentlemen for her when at times like this he wanted to be anything but.

"McCree, we're here." Angela said, startling him out of thoughts that had gotten so far away from him his pants had gone from uncomfortable to fucking unbearable. He let go of Angela's hand and let the woman step away - hopefully the excess of alcohol in her system would keep her privy of his sudden distraction. 

"Then I'll be taking my leave then." He said, tilting his hat forward in farewell. "Been a pleasure seein' you darling."

"Wait!" Angela said, grabbing for the fabric of his poncho with a voice just a bit too loud to be sober. But when he looked back at her, brow furrowed, she just smiled. "Look McC- Jesse” and the way she said his name set butterflies going in his stomach “I know I'm not sober enough to do much, but I know I’ve been wanting to do this for a while." 

And with that she leaned up, pressing a light kiss against McCree's lips that short circuited his brain because Angela smelt of roses and cinnamon and medical grade disinfectant in a way that was actually somehow nice. Her lips were so soft and he followed them even after she pulled away and when McCree met her eyes once more they were sparkling with the mirth of the woman who dared to disagree with the highest ranking officers in this whole damn organisation - and the nerve to dance this dance with him.

"You should probably remind me about this tomorrow. I feel as though if I may forget… And even if I don't, it can't hurt to have the backup, right?"

McCree could only nod in agreement as Angela slipped away from him once more, her door sliding shut in front of him.

-x-

And when McCree cornered her the next day in the kitchen, her in owl slippers and a lopsided sleepshirt and him in his same old poncho, he kissed her like a dying man aching for water. He made her gasp for breath and clutch at his shirt as glorious realisation flashed in her eyes, and when his hand intertwined with hers after he pulled away her smile lit up like a flashbang. It was stunning, took his breath away now as it did last night, as it did the very first time he met her and he had noticed that smile come to her face so much easier then than it did these days.

But then he looked to her now, pressed into his side with blonde hair curled softly over her shoulders and eyes half closed in ease, and he knew he'd do anything to keep it on her face.


End file.
